by Jacob Stone
“Interesting,” Morris said. Parker was lying on his side, and Morris absently began rubbing the dog’s chest with the toe of his shoe. Parker stretched his legs and let out a satisfied grunt. “I guess it could be a coincidence that Big Joe’s wife and top guy are getting massages at the same spa at the same time.”
Bogle kept his poker face firmly intact as he offered, “Or body wraps. I’m not sure exactly what they are, but I hear they’re hot now. At least Jenny mentioned something to me about scheduling one for Friday.”
Morris smiled thinly. “I don’t see Bobby Gallo as a body wrap type of guy, or him getting a facial either. A spa, though, would be a good place for lovers to meet clandestinely. So what happened last Friday? Benjamin Chandler is palling around with Vincent Scalise, and they spot Gallo and Melanie Penza together? Something violent goes down making Scalise disappear and Chandler go on the run? Gallo then convinces Big Joe that Melanie’s having an affair with Chandler?”
“It adds up,” Bogle said. “Although Chandler could’ve been iced along with Scalise.”
“I don’t think so. Odds are Gallo has the actor’s little black book and is going through it looking for him and sending others—like Brownstein—to the hospital. I think Big Joe was being sincere with me. He honestly believes Chandler was having an affair with his wife and only wants to talk to him. Gallo cannot allow that to happen.”
Bogle tugged on his lower lip. “If we’re right about him,” he said.
As far as Morris was concerned, it added up, or at least it appeared to. He could go to Big Joe with what they had, but it would be better if he could show the mob boss a photo of Melanie and Gallo together.
“What do you think?” he asked Bogle. “Should we give it a day or two to see if we can get a more incriminating photo?”
Bogle grimaced, and Morris knew why. Waiting would give Gallo more time to hunt for Benjamin Chandler, but while they could build a good story around what they had, it was still at this point only a story. If Big Joe didn’t buy it, Gallo and Melanie Penza could discover that they’d been found out, which would make things tougher for everyone.
Bogle said, “I don’t like it, but that’s probably the best way to go.”
Morris called Polk to tell him the guy in the photo was Bobby Gallo, and when Polk suggested he join him on the stakeout so he could take Gallo when he left the spa, Morris agreed that made sense.
Chapter 23
Before going to bed, Lori Fletcher had washed down a sedative with three glasses of wine. The sedative had been given to her by a coworker, Heather Mackey, who was a year older and also worked as a graphic designer. Heather had insisted Lori tell her why she looked so exhausted, and after she broke down and confided in her about being terrified that a nameless boogeyman was out to get her even though she knew her fear was irrational, Heather invited her to spend the night at her apartment. She almost accepted her coworker’s offer, but she wanted to be home in case Lucky was found. In her heart she believed that was going to happen. Lucky would be returned that night, and she’d be safe and protected. By ten she gave up hope that Lucky would be brought back to her. She also knew that her only chance of sleeping was if she took the sedative, so she swallowed it down with a glass of Riesling. One glass didn’t seem enough, so she drank another, and then another after that. The third glass did the trick, as it soon became a struggle to keep her eyelids open. Somehow she made it to her bedroom, and the last thing she remembered was crawling under the covers. Then blackness until waking up.
She didn’t fully wake up—at least not right away. The sedative and wine had left her too groggy to make sense of what was happening to her. Even with the fuzzy feeling in her brain, she knew something was very wrong. All of her fingers ached, and most of her toes did also. It was a dull, throbbing pain. A pain that made her want to curl up in a ball and cry. Except she couldn’t do that. It dawned on her that she couldn’t move her hands or feet. She was on her back and she couldn’t move much at all. She couldn’t see anything either. It was darker in her room than it should’ve been. There was no ambient light. There should’ve been something from her radio alarm clock on the built-in next to her bed, and also from the smoke alarm detector. Her fear grew as she realized why it was so dark, and why she couldn’t move her hands and feet. A blindfold had been wrapped around her face, and her hands and feet had been bound.
Oh my God! He was with her now and he was doing horrible things to her!
In her panic, she understood why her fingers and toes ached as much as they did. He had pulled her fingernails off and was now doing the same with her toenails. In fact, she felt something hard and metallic biting down on the nail of her big toe, the one on her left foot, and she tried to scream when she felt the nail being ripped from the flesh.
Only a dull, muffled sound came out of her. The fuzziness filling up her mouth wasn’t because of the wine and sedative but because she’d been gagged.
She was fully awake then. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. This was real and not a hallucination. He was with her and there was no one to protect her.
She realized she was naked. He had taken her pajamas off. She was completely exposed. But she knew that was the least of her problems.
Two more toenails were ripped off. Both times she tried to scream, both times the gag muffled her.
She wanted to beg for her life. To promise anything if he’d only let her live. But the gag kept her from being able to do anything but make sickening noises. Soon she felt the knife blade cutting into her, and that was when the real pain started.
She passed out several times from the pain, but each time he’d bring her back to consciousness by making her inhale a noxious chemical. Before he started burning her, she just wanted to die. Over and over again, she prayed for it to end.
She was woken up one last time by the noxious fumes. The gag had been taken out of her mouth. She filled up her lungs with air and opened her mouth to scream. Before she could, something cold and metallic was pushed into her throat. She began gagging, but the object was hollow and wasn’t going to suffocate her. Still, it kept her from being able to scream.
It was funny what might pop into a person’s head during a time like this. Cutting through her sheer terror and agony was a thought about the voice that had been whispering to her for weeks, the one warning her that he was going to do terrible things to her. It was a voice she imagined hearing only in her dreams, but would linger throughout the day, echoing dimly in her consciousness. It occurred to her why the voice sounded vaguely familiar. She silently mouthed wow as she realized where she had heard it before. Even though she was in shock, and even with everything that was happening to her, the thought left her stunned.
Was it possible?
The blindfold was taken off. She wanted to see her tormenter and at least have the satisfaction to know if she was right about the voice, but her eyes first sought out the source of her gagging, and she saw that a hollow pipe had been shoved into her mouth. Something a plumber would use. Then a squealing noise froze her. It was the sound that a small, angry animal might make. She couldn’t look away as a gloved hand holding a squirming rat appeared in front of her eyes. The rat was clawing and biting furiously at the glove, but the glove looked heavy and thick, and would protect her boogeyman from the sharp fangs and claws.
A cold, unbearable horror filled Lori as she realized why the hollow pipe had been pushed into her throat and what was going to be done with the rat.
This was beyond her worst nightmare. Beyond anyone’s.
The only solace she had was knowing death would be coming quickly once the rat was used.
Chapter 24
Nathan wasn’t having a particularly good morning. It was bad enough that his allergies were acting up, but the tenants in 4C were having plumbing problems. Sludge from the pipes had backed up into their bathtub, and of course the tenants thought the th
ick blackish-colored sludge was something other than what it was. He had to first calm them down, and they were rip-snorting mad, and then he had to spend an hour snaking out the pipe. Dirty, unpleasant work. When he was done, he knocked on Lori Fletcher’s door. She lived in 3C, the apartment directly below 4C, and there was a good chance she was having the same issue. She didn’t answer the door. A shame. He wouldn’t have minded seeing her. A cute girl, and to be honest about it, he had a little thing for her, even if she was way too young for him. And way too pretty. He thought about letting himself into her apartment and snaking out the pipe so she wouldn’t have any problems, but if he did that she wouldn’t call him later when she did have a problem, and he’d miss out on being able to spend time with her, even if it was just him in her bathroom while she was elsewhere in the apartment.
Sighing heavily, he took the elevator down to the basement. He had more work he needed to do. A broken disposal in 5M, a dripping faucet in 4K, 1G complaining about ants, but he first wanted to wash the sludge off his arms.
Nathan stepped into his studio apartment and the intercom began buzzing. He almost ignored it. He had enough work stacked up as it was, and he was feeling cranky after being elbow deep in sludge and his throat felt coated from allergies. But whoever it was would just keep buzzing. When the people here had problems they acted as if it were the world’s worst catastrophe, and they expected him to jump right on it. God forbid he take time to wash off some sludge or make coffee. He answered the intercom, growling out something that sounded like “yeah.”
“Hi, is this the building’s super? I found a dog that I think belongs to one of your tenants.”
It had to be Lori Fletcher’s dog. Weinstein’s little yappy thing had been yapping his head off earlier this morning, and he hadn’t seen Lucky for a few days. He hadn’t realized the dog was missing, but it explained why Lori had been moping when he saw her Sunday.
“I’ll be right up,” he grumbled over the intercom.
He took the stairs to the first floor and saw a good-looking millennial-type in the vestibule area with Lucky. There was no mistaking that dog. Nathan felt an affinity to him. An ugly as heck animal with a heart of gold, at least he believed that to be the case. He couldn’t help feeling annoyed seeing the guy who had found him. Thin, well groomed with a hipster goatee, and neatly dressed in chinos, a pullover cotton long-sleeve shirt, and boat shoes with no socks. Just the type Lori would go for, especially since she’d be grateful to him for finding her dog. Nathan felt a hot flush of jealousy thinking Lori would agree to go on a date with this millennial-dude if he were to ask her.
Nathan opened the vestibule door, and the guy introduced himself as Dillon Hardwick and explained that he had found Lucky three days earlier. “I didn’t see the lost dog poster until late last night. The owner is named Lori Fletcher? I tried calling her this morning, but she didn’t answer her phone, so I thought I’d stop by and see if I could catch her at home.”
“She’s not in her apartment,” Nathan uttered with the same enthusiasm he would’ve shown if he were about to have a tooth drilled. “Ms. Fletcher’s probably at work.”
“Do you know where that is?”
He was a super, not a personal secretary for the people living here! Why would he keep a record of where these people worked? The oblivious smile on Hardwick’s face annoyed him, and he wanted to tell him to hand over the dog and get lost. If he did that, he’d be able to play the hero later when he reunited Lori with Lucky. But he knew it would make Lori happy if the dog were brought to her now.
“I have to do work in Ms. Fletcher’s apartment. If you don’t cause any trouble, you can come up with me. There might be something in her apartment that says where she works.”
Nathan stepped aside to let Hardwick bring Lucky into the building, then led the way into the elevator. He got a small degree of satisfaction seeing how careful Hardwick was not to brush against him and get any grime on his white cotton shirt, also seeing the way he wrinkled his nose once they were in the elevator together. Some people might’ve taken offense at that, but Nathan was glad he could make him uncomfortable.
Instead of taking the elevator back to the third floor, he first took it to the basement so he could get the drum machine and other tools he needed to snake out Lori’s bathtub line. On the way back to the elevator he handed Hardwick his tool chest. Hardwick was too polite to decline carrying it, and Nathan smiled inwardly seeing his reaction to having to get his hands a little dirty. It was a tight fit back in the elevator with the drum machine and Lucky taking up space, and once again Nathan got a small bit of satisfaction seeing Hardwick trying so hard not to get any grime on his pristine clothing.
Nathan was rolling the eighty-five-pound drum machine down the hallway, and Lucky’s reaction when they got close to Lori’s door spooked him. The dog became agitated, howling as if he were in agony and straining on his leash, dragging Hardwick right to the door. Nathan fumbled with his oversized keychain, searching for the key that matched Lori’s door.
“Something smells really bad in there,” Hardwick said.
He was right. The odor was unmistakable. An outhouse-type smell. Nathan had noticed it earlier but dismissed it, thinking it was from the sludge coating his arms. His hand shook as he used the matching key to unlock the door. He began blinking wildly, pinpricks on his legs and arms, a coldness pushing deep into his skull. The sound of the dog’s agonized howling became muffled as if the animal were a hundred yards away. It shocked him when he realized he was moving toward the source of the stench. Lori’s bedroom.
“Oh my God.”
This came from Hardwick. Nathan had forgotten all about him. He took another step into the bedroom, trying to make sense of the crude “17” assembled on the floor. Horror overtook him as he realized it was made up of grisly pieces of severed flesh and human fingernails, maybe toenails also. In a daze he stumbled closer to the bed and saw what was left of Lori. Her lips had been sewn shut, but something was causing her lips and cheeks to push out. He couldn’t look away from it. It was both horrifying and fascinating. What could possibly be causing that?
Something forced its way through her lips. He moved closer, and when he realized what it was, he fainted dead away.
Chapter 25
Natalie had taken Parker to her office that morning, so today it was just Morris and Bogle. They had followed Bobby Gallo to a Bel-Air address and watched from a distance as Gallo knocked on a door and then as he and a muscle-bound associate forced their way in after a man wearing a silk bathrobe answered the door. This was the third home they had followed Gallo to, and the third one they had witnessed him breaking into. He was still hunting for Benjamin Chandler.
Yesterday Gallo had left the spa before they arrived, so Polk picked up his tail, and Morris and Bogle took over following Melanie Penza. They had an uneventful rest of the day watching her. After she had left the spa, she spent several hours shopping before calling it quits. They did, however, discover that she and Big Joe lived in an exclusive downtown Los Angeles condo building. He called Marty Wright with the information, and Wright thanked him for it and told him he’d look into it. “Penza must own it under a different name, probably using a shell company,” Wright had said. “We suspect he owns several condos downtown and moves to different ones every few months.”
Polk had called Morris later that night to tell him he had followed Gallo to five tony addresses around Los Angeles until Gallo gave up his search to spend several hours at a strip club and then bring two of the dancers back with him to his high-rise apartment. Polk had brought along an extra GPS tracking device and attached it to the undercarriage of Gallo’s car so Morris would have an easy time picking up his tail the next day.
After twenty minutes outside the Bel-Air address, Bogle became fidgety. He drained what was left of the coffee he’d bought earlier, crumpled the cardboard cup, and tossed it to the floor, his expression o
ne of disgust.
“We should get the police involved,” he said. “Home invasion. Assault and battery. Aggravated mayhem.”
Morris sighed. They’d had this argument already. “No chance any of these people will press charges against him. And it won’t help us with Penza. The opposite, actually. We need that incriminating photo, and we don’t need Gallo knowing we’re onto him.”
“If he finds Chandler in one of these houses, he’ll kill him.”
“Not in front of witnesses. And not where the body can be found. He’ll want to take Chandler someplace private, and we’ll intercept him before he can do that.”
Bogle said, “You’re making an assumption. You don’t know that for a fact.”
Morris made a shrugging motion with his shoulders and hands. What Bogle said was of course true, but he’d say it was more an educated guess than an assumption. It made too much sense for it to be any other way, at least as long as Big Joe had told him the truth, and he was fairly certain the man had leveled with him. If Penza had tasked Gallo with finding Chandler and bringing the actor back to him, then Gallo couldn’t afford to kill Chandler in a way that his body would be discovered. Even if Penza had sent Gallo out to find and kill the actor, Gallo would still want to bring him to a secluded location before doing the deed, and he’d also want to make sure that the body disappeared forever. The murder of a Hollywood celebrity would bring down a lot of heat, and it would be far better for the celebrity’s disappearance to be added to the list of Los Angeles’s unsolved mysteries.
“There’s got to be a better way for us to find Chandler than following these animals,” Bogle complained.
Morris shrugged again. He had called Philip Stonehedge in Ireland earlier that morning and was able to catch him during a break. Stonehedge didn’t know Benjamin Chandler, but he told Morris he’d make some calls and see what he could find out. Gallo was the one with Chandler’s little black book, so until Annie Walsh saw more credit card activity from Chandler or Stonehedge was able to give them some leads, following Gallo was all they had.